The Son of Leto
by TheRoman987
Summary: Dropped onto the streets of New Rome by a Titaness who didn't have time to raise a child, the baby was picked up by a politician who takes advantage of his powers in morally grey areas. Now a private killer, mercenary, and bodyguard of the most powerful man in New Rome, Perseus Jackson is a force to be reckoned with. Until he goes freelance, that is, and a silver goddess notices.
1. Prologue - Amor Omnia Vincit

**Prologue -Amor Omnia Vincit**

* * *

 **The Future**

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and accomplished magic-science developer, had likely the most important task she had yet: To analyze the rapid rise of the Third Roman Republic . . . it was a mockery of the name, for one person had succeeded in getting himself elected dictator for life.

He was the one that ruled now -when he bothered showing up, that is.

Most of the time, the man was nowhere to be found, vanished off the face of the earth. Some said he returned to the hells -or heavens- from whence he came.

It wasn't that -Annabeth had been a researcher in the bomb that destroyed hell, and the device severed the connection between heaven and earth.

Heaven fell, nearly leveling New York City. Some called that day Ragnarok. Annabeth called it progress.

The man called it justice.

It was with this thought that Annabeth cleared her desk of everything but a notebook -while it may have been more efficient to do it on a computer, books and paper were where her story started.

 _Note From the Author_

 _All people, I believe, have a dream that they were birthed into the world for. Some do not know of their dream until late in their lives . . . some know from the very beginning. Everyone seeks to accomplish something, no matter how slight. This is the time Perseus Jackson took the stage, and saved the people of the world from their hidden tormentors and uncaring masters: The gods of all pantheons._

 _But that, I believe, was not his dream. Perseus Jackson was never a man of hatred and revenge . . . because, in an odd way, he was raised in an absence of negative emotions._

 _Perseus Jackson was raised to kill -or so rumors say. That rumored upbringing absolved him of fear, anger, and hate, for he found nothing to fear in death, and found hate as an object that gives the act of killing pleasure -something he could never condone._

 _His story is one of love, not hate. I do not know from whence this love has came, nor where it left, but I have known Perseus Jackson since the near beginning of his path, and he does not kill out of anger._

 _I used to believe that some people were born with a raging soul, an inferno inside of them that drove them to the top of what the world had to offer. That was certainly my case. But that role never fit Perseus. It never will._

 _Perhaps his soul was a pile of kindling that another lit, and blazed all the brighter once the energy within was released._

 _Was that spark love? I believe it was._

"This is all I needed to read to reject this manuscript." the publisher said, slamming it down, "It's a disgrace to His Majesty!"

"How?" Annabeth asked, determined to rip this person to pieces, "His Majesty himself said it was time for the truth."

"That is not the truth!" the publisher shouted. He was a man of fifty to sixty, with a balding head a thick glasses, "His Majesty would never approve of it! He'd execute us both for treason."

"No, actually, I don't believe I would." it was a new voice, one who opened the door.

Perseus Jackson walked with no bodyguards in sight -he usually didn't have visible guards. In fact, one of his favorite phrases was, 'I have nothing to fear from my people, so why would I need protection from them?'

It was a sign of absolute trust in the subjects he ruled . . . or rather, it was supposed to be. In reality, an army would barely make a dent in the defenses he had.

And even if they got past Percy's hidden guards, he'd lay waste to any attacking force himself.

The balding man paled, coming to his feet at once and saluting with a curled fist against his heart, "Your Majesty, sir!"

Annabeth, meanwhile, was on her feet much before the publisher, but didn't salute.

"It's good work, Ms. Chase. I've come to expect that of you." Percy said, putting his own copy down on the publisher's desk, "It is, however, too true. You must erase all mentions of C.C. from the text. You know as well as I that those secrets could mean the end of my reign."

"Yes, sir." the daughter of Athena replied, picking up her manuscript.

"Of course, that leaves a pesky fly here with too much knowledge." Percy turned to the publisher, who was sweating bullets and was as pale as a ghost.

"Please, my lord, please-"

The bullet went through the fleshy part near his chin, through his mouth and up through the top of his head, killing him instantly.

Then he winked out of existence as Percy's public image crew cleaned it up.

Annabeth didn't even raise an eyebrow, "Did you like it, my lord?"

"I did . . . it almost makes me sound heroic." Percy turned, "I took the liberty of editing your manuscript myself, so please review it and use it as a reference."

"Yes, my lord." replied the daughter of Athena.

"Relax. No one outside the room can hear or see us. And your adorable little bug isn't recording, either." Percy informed, "Now, Annabeth, I take it you have a few questions? Your text certainly stated you did."

Annabeth's stormy gray eyes calmed as she analyzed the situation. She'd known the dictator for years, as the first head of his research and development branch in the Organization. She didn't know Perseus Jackson, though. She could count on her fingers the people who did, though: Lancet Johnson, Zoë Nightshade, Reyna Arellano, Octavian Delozier, Hank Richardson, and the girl -C.C.

And the mystery person.

Was this her route to his inner circle? Either way, she couldn't pass it up.

"Do you really seek to win the world for love?"

"Yes, in fact." Percy said, taking the chair the dead publisher used to be in.

"Please, explain."

"You already know some of the story. Did you know I have a sister?" the dictator asked, leaning forward to maintain eye-contact with his most trusted -and valued- scientist.

"No."

"Because I don't. Not by blood." he shook his head sadly, "Tell me, have you ever heard of Gwendolyn Farin?"

"No."

"You haven't dug far enough, then." Percy stood, "Perhaps I was wrong to come here."

"The more I know about you, the more truthful what I write will be." Annabeth pointed out, "Isn't that was you want?"

"True. Very well, I'll humor you a little longer." the dictator sat again, "Gwendolyn Farin . . . I called her Gwen, of course. The Farins were the ones who most opposed my upbringing, even surpassing my father's -legal father's- protests. I suppose that's why he sent me to them so often."

"But the Farin family is gone." Annabeth said, "Their line ended in the fire that destroyed most of New Rome."

"Don't interrupt. I was Gwen's first friend, and she was mine. Her family adopted me, and I adopted them -all but in name. I loved her endless optimism -a stark contrast to mine. She always believed that the world could be better. But her life was taken too soon -or was officially. In truth, I arrived at the scene as her house was collapsing around her. A ceiling beam fell, pulverizing her legs and her left arm. They had to be amputated later. Falling embers burned most of her face, and destroyed her eyes by the time I could get her out."

Percy paused, and for the first time, Annabeth could see pain in them -not sadness, not despair, but pain. Pain long kept inside.

"She would be confined to a wheelchair her whole life if she even survived." the dictator sighed, "That was no life for the brightest, energetic, and happiest person I ever knew and ever would know. She was my little sister -and I let her down in the worst way. I needed to make that right."

"By remaking the world?"

Percy shot her a pain-filled glared, "I told you not to interrupt. Don't make me shut your mouth by force."

Annabeth actually recoiled -that was a tone he never took on before, not even with his greatest enemies.

"Continuing on, I wanted -no, needed- to heal her, make her whole again. I didn't know how, but I did know how to fight. If only one person in the world knew how to regrow her limbs and mend her eyes, I would take them and force them to heal her. Eventually, in eight years of searching, I found a way . . . but it would take at least a decade to complete. So, in the meantime, I started making the perfect world for Gwen." Percy sat back, "And that's where I am now."

"And C.C.? How does she fit into this?"

"That, you don't need to know." answered the man, "If you want to know more about me, then you are going about it at the wrong angle. Why do you think I let the Republic persist?"

"As a farce. To let people think they can influence the government."

"Why would they care if the majority of them love the man in charge?" Percy asked, interested in hearing her answer.

Annabeth pondered this, "There will always be some who despise your reign. If they elect their representatives, you can see exactly who they are and who their leader."

"But, as I've shown numerous times, any group of discontented merely need to seek an audience with myself or one of my advisers. There we will work out a solution that fits all." Percy said, "The take over and fertilization of the Sahara, for instance, and the African civil war that nearly broke out."

Annabeth cocked her head, deep in thought, "True. Why, then?"

"I believe, with one statement, I can answer all of your questions in one stroke: I do not wish to live forever." Percy said slowly.

Annabeth's eyes widened as suddenly everything clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle re-arranging themselves into a clear, bright picture.

"But you want this world to last forever." it was a statement, not a question.

Percy leaned back, "Yes. I want to fix the larger problems by the end of my reign and leave someone behind who's capable of solving any minor ones that crop up."

"And you want that person to be me?"

"No. I want you to write my biography. I can assure you, that will keep you busy for much longer than this." the man gestured to the manuscript she currently held.

Annabeth bowed out of respect and habit, "Yes, sir."

* * *

 **A/N: How's that for a start? It's a lot shorter than my usual chapter length, but since I also had another short chapter, I decided to release them both.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Anyone's welcome to use the idea, too.**


	2. 1- Titans and Hunters and CC, Oh My!

**Chapter 1: Titans and Hunters and C.C., Oh My!**

* * *

 **July 21, 2015, Mansion Five Miles From New Rome, California**

Perseus Jackson, war hero and hired killer, had been put under house arrest for ten years by the gods of Olympus. But now, after eight years, he was being paroled for good behavior.

Funny, because his actions were anything but. Originally, the gods had hired him to topple the Titans by any means possible while Typhon rampaged to New York. But, fearing his power, they tried to shut him. It didn't work.

In fact, Percy even managed to become the leader of a powerful force of warriors, scientists, and 'others', known as the Organization within New Rome, or the Network in the mortal world. It was the unofficial powerhouse of the Roman world.

And officially, he was one of the two Consuls of New Rome -practically the absolute military commander, outranking even the Praetors.

Some of the most powerful demigods, demi-Titans, and legacies were under his command -even the former Lieutenant of the Hunt, who was waiting for him outside.

Zoë Nightshade tapped her foot impatiently, spinning a key chain while she waited, "Thou was outside yesterday. While I understand thy wish to enjoy thy freedom, now is not the time."

Percy sighed, "Give me a break. Report."

The former Hunter spun on her heel, falling into step as the demi-Titan walked by, "Octavian and Reyna have gone ahead with the plan. New Rome is set for thy arrival."

"I see. Clarisse?"

"She has captured the majority of the Hunt, though it appears four escaped. Pheobe Nikos is among them."

"That could be a problem." Percy took the keys from his subordinate, climbing into the driver's seat of the inexpensive, generic, and unassuming car she brought. It was, in essence, the perfect car for his needs.

San Francisco traffic wasn't too bad, and the son of Leto pulled into a empty, concrete lot -bought by his Organization- and parked.

The two legionnaire guards saluted as they passed through the tunnel.

After all, the two Consuls were the most important part of the Republic, and the two of them were very, very popular -not to mention successful- in their terms.

For both Perseus Jackson and Zoë Nightshade were famous names, along with Clarisse la Rue and Nico di Angelo. The four of them single-handedly broke the Titan's siege on New Rome, leading the newly-found 22nd Legion _Primigenia_ to route the monster army.

From there, the two Legions laid siege to Mount Othrys. Imagine their surprise when a third Legion, the Sixth Legion _Victrix_ , arrived at the scene with the purpose of taking the fight to the Titans while their sister legion, the Sixth Legion _Ferrata_ , scattered the Titan's war camp in New York City.

It created quite the brouhaha, but anyone could tell you how Perseus Jackson, named Praetor after dispersing the siege of New Rome, took command of the three Legions at the siege to win a startling victory, smashing the palace into shards.

In truth, the four of them -Percy, Zoë, Nico, and Clarisse- had done much, much more. Targeting monster strongholds, recruitment areas, and reinforcements all across the States, the four fighters eliminated the entire monster leadership -their most powerful soldiers and most capable commanders.

And when that got out, the public when bananas. The press went into overdrive, and even the New Roman rumor mill couldn't keep up with the outlandish, heroic tales of the exploits of Perseus and his three powerful comrades.

The gods, meanwhile, were horrified -how could four people do that? How powerful were they? Would they try to overthrow Olympus as well?

Zeus decided to nip the problem in the bud, and confined Percy to house arrest for ten years -he dared not try for any more. It would have worked admirably, if the god combined it with an effective press campaign and the ability to actually _keep_ Percy from getting _out_ of the house. The King of the Gods, needless to say, failed on both accounts.

That house-arrest was the last straw for Perseus -the last shred of hypocrisy that made his patience run dry. With that thought in mind, he started the Organization, dedicated to making the gods pay. But there was mistake made, and a massive fire broke out in New Rome. It was in this fire that the noble and esteemed Farin family was wiped out, all of it's members either dead of missing.

The gods barely spared a glance, which only made Percy's cold hatred even more intense.

The Titans, however kept a closer eye on the mortal world. One of them did, at least, make note of Percy's imprisonment. Thankfully for them, she noticed little else.

Leto flashed herself into step beside Percy and Zoë, "Hello, son."

"Leto."

"I believe your people are still in business?"

"Depends on the task." Percy said, keeping an eye on the Titaness through the mirror.

"I need you to protect Artemis. I have reason to believe you will seek revenge on Olympus, and I must ask she be saved." Leto informed.

"You would be partially correct. I will, though, spare Diana from my wrath -and even protect her from outside threats- for the mere price of one tonne of 24 karat Imperial Gold, and contact with Arcus -Iris-, Goddess of the Rainbow."

Leto scowled, "One tonne of Imperial Gold is a _mere_ price?"

"I'd imagine you know where Saturn's war chest is, along with any weapon stockpiles _I_ didn't find and destroy eight years ago."

"You are certainly well informed." commented the Titaness.

"I try to be." Percy shrugged nonchalantly, stopping to face New Rome, "Knowledge is power."

Leto, again, dropped a precious phrase of supposed reason, "Power corrupts."

"A Roman government is always rife with corruption. I fit right in." the demi-Titan sighed, stretching his arms, "Take it or leave it, Leto."

She swore, "I'll take it."

"Iris?"

"In Oregon. She runs a store." Leto sighed, "I'll deliver the Gold soon enough. Why do you want her?"

"I need to ask her a few questions, that's all."

"Hmph." his mother flashed away, and the two Consuls were alone again.

"That went well." Percy commented, "Enough material for two of Leo's bombs, if he follows his current design. A prototype and the real one."

The mere fact that the two of them walked through the streets of New Rome with no _lictors_ was a sign of their absolute confidence in the people. Indeed, many people they passed on the street greeted them cheerfully -after his first month in office, Percy tried to pass a motion that would outlaw everyone from calling him 'Consul Jackson' or the like.

In result, his public approval rating shot even higher.

The problem was his personal schedule called for him to ascend to an even higher rank -dictator.

"You're late." Octavian said, meeting them in the street.

Percy shrugged, "I'm here, which is the main thing. I shouldn't need much makeup."

Octavian turned away, leading them to his own manor -where a team of stylists were waiting for them. As soon as they walked in, the trio were directed to sit down and stay still.

Perseus and Octavian were by far the most political of their little group. Reyna could hold her own, but Zoë, Clarisse, and Nico tended to disregard it all as useless. Independently, each of them were formidable, capable, and brilliant. Together, the six of them were unstoppable, and Percy was undoubtedly their leader.

Of course, there were others crucial to Percy's power-base -Daedalus, in charge of melding mortal technology with non-mortal power, and a trio of witches -Circe, Medea, and Paisphae- responsible for training a uniform group of martial, military based wielders of sorcery for a plan yet to unfold.

The stylists buzzed around them for approximately half an hour -doing their hair, dressing them, putting on makeup when needed, and generally pretty-ing them up.

They all knew how to play their parts -Percy, the charismatic, heroic general who would shepherd New Romans to a great future, Zoë, the soft-spoken, powerful one who made sure Percy didn't mess up, and Octavian, the proud, well-respected man from a well-established family, giving Percy the legitimacy he needed desperately.

The Senate met today, and there would be major changes instituted.

They arrived long before the meeting started, currying favor and ensuring votes for the coming storm.

Octavian, of course, was the first to take the stage, "Fellow Senators, we joined here, today, to face the challenges that stand in the way of the prosperity of New Rome."

With that sentence, doom was wrought on anyone who thought they had any chance of opposing Percy's rise to dictatorship. For them to act against Octavian, Percy, and Zoë now would peg them as against the prosperity and well-being of the New Romans.

"The first, I believe, is that in this world of progression and technology, New Rome is falling behind." Octavian said, "These people whom we call mortals -dare we call them such, if we are not immortal ourselves?- are advancing by leaps and bounds. There are already videos on their 'internet' showing Romans in action -and the Mist cannot hide them all. Something must be done."

This alone sent murmurs and questions rippling through the Senate, but that didn't stop Octavian from regaining order.

"First, however, we must solve domestic troubles. It sickens me that I must do this, but there is a great scandal that should be brought to attention. Just recently, my valued friend Consul Jackson came to me with a problem: A requisition order from the 6th Legion, for supplies used to defend Roman citizens, was rejected. The treasury, as it happens, did not have the money to defend Rome." Octavian said.

That, of course, was bad.

"Flabbergasted, I personally went over our budget from the taxes we have collected. In that respect, tracing out past expenses, we were within the boundaries -our projected expenses were well within our budget, and the rest was to be kept for an emergency. But, as I said, there was a lack of wealth in the treasury. That means corruption, and mismanagement I had not believe we were capable of." Octavian explained, "Therefore, someone _must_ regain order here! But who could have the power to unilaterally arrest a Senator for this corruption? I believe it is time for decisive action, people of Rome. To protect our citizens, and keep safe our city. People of New Rome, we need a leader! We need a dictator!"

A good deal of the Senators rose in support of the motion, and Zoë stood.

"I am an adept commander, but this task I recommend Consul Jackson for. I nominate him as dictator of a period of six months." spoke the former Hunter -short and too the point as always.

Other Senators were nominated as well, but were either shot down or refused -Perseus, they believed was the best man for the job. Impeccably moral, with a history of serving New Rome and popular to boot.

"All in support of this motion, stand now." Octavian called out.

It was unanimous. Hell, to do anything else was political suicide -or actual suicide, given Percy's backstreet gang of assassins and killers.

Either way, those who didn't worship the ground Percy walked -a minority, certainly- were bought out, and those who refused money, favors, and trades -an even smaller portion- were threatened and gradually replaced.

Percy stood as the Senate sat, "As my first act, I would like the approval of the Senate to make all financial records of the Republic public for the period of the last five years. Though I have the power to make decisions on your behalf, I will not and cannot in good conscience betray your hope and trust in me."

A Centurion of the 12th Legion's 1st Cohort stood -Micheal Kahale, "I second this proposal, though it doesn't need to be seconded. My men and women need supplies to fight effectively."

In reality, that was the difference between the seasoned politicians and the Legion kids. People from New Rome could make running the government their business -learn rhetoric, and fulfill their role with cultured and convincing speeches. The Centurions and Praetors from the Legions were given places in the Senate as well, but that was more to keep them in the loop. Young and idealistic, they were often convinced by a good speech -and when they weren't, it was because they were too loyal to those under them.

But Percy's goal wasn't to reform the Senate -no, it was working fine. The problem was the bureaucracy. Having seen his own Organization run itself, Percy had no doubts that competency was the most important quality. Screw legitimacy, screw loyalty, screw popularity, and screw hard work.

If someone was good, Percy decided, they got the job. And if they weren't good at the job, they were replaced -and quickly.

And that, incidentally, meant paperwork.

That was his life even before he was officially released from house-arrest. The now-dictator knew it would pay off in the long run -much like homework- but in the meantime, coordinating between the Legions -now consuming four times the amount of material they used to, due to the discovery of three other Legions- the Treasury -woefully depleted after the Titan War- and the main manufacturers of the goods he needed -who had also had their reserves of such equipment drained both by the war and by Percy's Organization.

In short, he needed money and he needed supplies.

He probably wouldn't get them for at least four years at the current pace.

That's when someone else entered his office.

"Circe. Tell me good news."

The witch shrugged lightly, "You see, dear, the first group of these . . . militarized people have only _just_ completed training. We are far from complete."

"Fuck." was Percy's first reply, "You haven't forgotten who saved your life, have you?"

Although the dictator couldn't see her, he knew the witch winced a little, "Of course not, dear, I simply want to say-"

"If you continue to talk to me in that tone, I'll have you killed." Percy said, still not looking at her.

Now her tone carried something of fake regret, "You know, dear, I had really hoped that I could wait a little longer before doing this . . . but I'm afraid you leave me no choice."

"Last chance before you're dead." Percy warned -fully aware of what Circe was doing.

This time, Circe's tone felt so much more reasonable . . . smooth . . . lulling.

"You see, darling, I need you to do what I say. If fact, I think it's better if you fell in love with me. Hopelessly smitten . . . willing to die for me." Circe charmspoke, her words rolling over the demi-Titan.

Immediately, Percy fell under her spell -despite his admittedly powerful will, Circe's overt sorcery was much too powerful after several millennia of practice.

That's when a duo of shots cracked, going through the open window and hitting the witch right in the chest.

Circe fell back, screaming in pain as blood flowed. Her eyes, so innocent, so beautiful, looked up at him with betrayal.

Percy's hand went to his radio, "Zoë, stand down! Now!"

"Thou will thank me later." came her terse reply, and another duet of gunshots drilled into the witch's throat and head.

Shuddering, Circe breathed out her final breath and slumped.

Percy shook himself, his mind recouping from the evil sorceress' charmed words.

"As you said, thanks." Percy said through his radio.

"I was only following thy orders, sir." Zoë replied.

Scowling fiercely, Percy called the other two responsible for ending this amateur revolt, "Clarisse. Nico. Status."

"Objective Papa has been neutralized." came Clarisse's reply, "We have eyes on Mike."

"Keep me informed." ordered the former Consul, about to cut the call before Clarisse stopped him.

"Wait . . . Mike seems to be surrendering."

"Approach with extreme caution. The slightest sign of trouble, shoot her." it was a cold, efficient order.

"Yes, sir." Clarisse replied, and Percy ended the transmission.

The three witches who represented the greatest deal of his, well, _magical_ power were conspiring to supplant him, and take over the operation.

There was an informant, though -someone passed them messages from within the conspiracy. No one knew who, but Percy had his suspicions.

All the same, that informer had quite possibly saved his life -or at least his free will.

A quarter of an hour later, Medea was led into his office -by his order, again.

Zoë was ordered to shoot her if the witch tried to charmspeak him, but it appeared that was not the case.

"Please," started the legendary Princess of Colchis, "I never wanted to help them! I was the one who passed you information!"

Percy gave her a level stare, "Up until this point, I did not force you to swear your loyalty. Due to your apparent complicity in their plot, I may have to force you."

"No. I never betrayed you." Medea pleaded, and her words were honest, "I swear on the River Styx that I was your informant in this uprising!"

Thunder crackled distantly, signaling the oath was sealed. Oaths on the Styx weren't guaranteed -it only came with catastrophic consequences after the oathbreaker died.

So, there was supposed to be no real way to tell if she was telling the truth. That's where Percy's parentage came in handy.

Leto, with one of her domains being Oblivion and things Hidden, Percy could tell when someone was hiding the truth. At least, that's what Percy thought.

And Medea's words rang true.

Percy sighed, "Very well. I believe you. What is the true status of the program you three headed?"

Medea shook her head slightly, "Circe and Paisphae tried their best to make sure this wouldn't become a reality. Unfortunately, only fifteen to twenty people have completed training. Their unit cohesion is perfect, and they are certainly powerful enough to provide devastating support, but . . ."

"There are only a few of them, and they're all green." Percy finished, coming to a decision, "Have them train the next batch the basics. I take it, without _those_ two, you'll be moving along much faster?"

The witch nodded, "As I have learned, betrayal often is not worth the cost."

"Don't make me regret my decision."

She bowed, "You will not. I swear it."

"Then get to work." Percy ordered, and after she left, he radioed his sniper, "Zoë, follow her. One step out of line, shoot to kill."

"Yes, sir."

The next knocker on his door was the eccentric -but brilliant- Director of Weapons Development, Daedalus. After thousands of years spent in the Labyrinth, his mind wasn't quite as sane as it used to be.

"Sir, we've just found something incredible!" Daedalus said, "You asked us to find ways to put demigod powers into objects, remember?"

"Yes. I believe you contracted the three witch's help for 'enchanting' things." Percy recalled.

"Well, yes, but we've made an astonishing breakthrough. We were brainstorming new ways to do this -more than enchanting gold to make it Imperial- and someone suggested experimenting with Norse runes -and it worked!"

Percy gently put down the pen he was working with, "Explain."

"We created a basic rune scheme, and there were definitely traces of power. So we asked one of the new people the witches were training, and he said when he touched the runes, he could feel a tug in his gut, like he was just using his own, unique abilities. But the runes started glowing -we used the rune for 'shield' and 'protection'. So we tried dropping a pencil on it, and the pencil bounced off something invisible a foot or two from the rune!"

Percy sighed, "You found out something massively new and incredibly dangerous, and you dropped a _pencil_ on it?"

"But just _think_ about this! It could mean the existence of Norse gods!" Daedalus exclaimed.

The dictator's eyes widened, a classic ' _oh shit_ ' look on his face, "Use every single language you know and see if you can get the same results! Asian symbols, African hieroglyphs, Russian writing, all of it!"

Daedalus nodded and went away -hopefully to do exactly Percy ordered.,

Within his inner circle of six -Octavian, Reyna, Nico, Zoë, Clarisse, and himself- it was known that Percy wanted -no, needed- to integrate New Rome into the world. His plan, after all, was to rule it. But to make New Rome's citizens be accepted by the general populace, Percy needed something to offer.

So Daedalus was carrying out all sorts of experiments designed to solve the world's problems -clean energy was already nearly there.

Percy kept scribbling, approving mounds of paperwork while he met with dozens of different people. He didn't become dictator to bully people around, after all -but he was making slow progress in finding suitable delegates.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the week passed on. Several members of the Senate were arrested and tried, some found not guilty, some imprisoned.

Then it was the weekend, and Percy had somewhere else to be.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **July 25, 2015, en route to Fort Hunter Liggett, California**

"What if-" Percy started.

"Octavian has it handled." Nico replied softly.

"But-"

"Godsdammit, punk." Clarisse swore, "No matter how much of a fuckin' bigshot you think you are, you can't do shit now."

Zoë, of course, was the one to actually make the most sense, "Octavian and Reyna are capable. Thou fears too much."

Percy sighed, "Fine."

The daughter of Atlas wouldn't let him go quite yet, "Perseus, you have created your Organization to act independently of your orders. All of your reforms so far have been to make the Roman bureaucracy efficient and independent."

"But it isn't _done_ yet." Percy pointed out, "We still have at least half a dozen positions still open."

"Then this shall be a test. One to see the results of our work so far." replied the Titaness.

It was early Saturday morning -very early. They were, all four of them, a part of the Army Reserve. After all, war heroes were always shining examples -and very popular. Where Percy, Zoë, and Nico had all attended Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC) and became commissioned officers -First Lieutenants, all of them- Clarisse had said, quoted, 'To fuck with that, I'm getting in the dirt with everyone else.'

With her mouth and her skills, she was promoted to Sergeant pretty quickly.

Still, they parked outside the Fort and walked inside in their fatigues -getting their ID checked along the way, of course.

Percy was the first one at his men's barracks -the First Lieutenant was nominally in charge of Sigma Platoon.

The rest of his platoon arrived within the next fifteen minutes -at least, everyone who'd be coming.

"Everyone here?" Percy asked his next layer -the sergeants and corporals.

"A Squad's all here, sir." reported Matthew Jenkins -the most experienced Sergeant here, though none of them actually had combat experience.

"Squad Baker is accounted for. No absences, sir." said the next, a quiet corporal by the name of Samantha Alabaster -Sam, if you didn't want her to get angry.

The third, a Staff Sergeant Shepard, reported coolly, "We're all present, sir, from Cannon and Dog."

The rest of them listed off. Of the forty-eight people in his platoon, two were missing. It was his job to report that to _his_ immediate superior, Major Paene -who usually had 'In the Arse' tacked on the end.

Despite his tough attitude, Major Paene had a few years of combat experience over them, and he was a good person off-duty.

That's where he went next -lining up with eight other assorted Second or First Lieutenants.

"Able Platoon! Report!" the Major barked in a tone worthy of the hardest drill sergeant.

"One gone, sir!" replied Second Lieutenant Charlie Flowers.

"Bastion Platoon!"

First Lieutenant Anna Bay wasn't quite as cowed as the first, but only a fool wouldn't give an energetic response, "We're at full strength, sir!"

"Herald Platoon! Status!" belted out the Major.

"Everyone present and accounted for, sir!"

The Major stalked down the line, getting the reports from two more platoon commanders before reaching Percy.

"Sigma Platoon! Strength!"

"Two out, sir!" Percy belted back, and the Major continued on to the last two Lieutenants.

Once he did, Major Paene faced all of them, "APFTs today! Able starts 0830. Bastion, 0945. Kingston, 1100. Nadir gets 1215. Pablo, take 1330. Sigma, 1445. Widget, your time's 1500. Zeal, you're last. 1615."

The Major passed out schedules for the scheduled events that were supposed to happen in this weekend of training -though, as anyone could attest, he was adept at pulling any number of surprises on them.

So Percy set his men and women to work on regaining any lost accuracy at a firing range, and those who kept their edge were tasked with field maintenance on their equipment.

Until it was their turn to take the Army Physical Fitness Tests, and the examiners arrived to find the Percy's platoon at hard work.

They started from the top, alphabetically by last name.

"Lieutenant Jackson!" called out the examiner, and Percy took his place on the push-up mat, "Get set!"

Percy dropped to his hands and toes, "Set, sir!"

"Go!"

The dictator did push-ups like it was going out of style, his muscles hardened by years of combat, exercising, and training. It would be a fair bet to say he was the most fit out of anyone in his platoon, and by a large margin too.

The examiner would count the number of pushups done each time Percy came up, at he hit seventy-three just as he hit the two-minute mark and the examiner called time.

Percy leapt to his feet, physically strained but not exhausted. Even so, he couldn't show any sign of weakness -he had to lead those beneath him by example.

Next came the sit-up test.

It wasn't long before another examiner called out, again, "Lieutenant Jackson! Get set!"

Percy curled up, palms behind his head, as Sergeant Jenkins held his feet.

"Set, sir!"

"Go!" the examiner ordered, starting the timer.

Again, Percy put all his effort into this exercise, his powerful abs flexing rapidly as he did the fastest sit-ups he could.

Again, the examiner counted off, and again he reached the seventies before the two minutes ended.

"Seventy-five, Lieutenant." the examiner informed him, "Report to the track next."

"Sir!" Percy moved away, stretching to loosen his legs. The two-mile run wouldn't be a sprint, that's for sure.

Unlike the other two, this one was done in groups -usually of ten. The track was a quarter mile long, so it was eight laps.

"Get set!" ordered another examiner, for hopefully the last time in a while.

"Set, sir!" came the unified response from the runners.

"Go!"

Percy leapt forward, focusing on the smooth, even strides he knew he could keep up for hours. You just didn't become a war hero by being lazy.

His time was thirteen minutes, twelve seconds. Certainly excellent.

Sergeant Jenkins -conveniently next in alphabetical order, soon joined him in walking off the extertion. After some water, they both went back to the firing ranges.

Percy, of course, immediately took to correcting any flawed technique he saw.

Carefully -the rounds _were_ live, after all- he moved a soldier's -one Private Parques- hand further up the grip.

"Move your left arm a further down the gun, Private." instructed the dictator, "Makes it more stable. More stable, better shot."

"Yes, sir." the private replied, taking his advice to heart.

Sergeant Jenkins, who never left his side, looked at the boy, and back at Percy, "Think we'll ever see some action?"

"If you wanted action, you'd join the regulars." Percy replied.

"I get you . . . still, feels like a waste."

The dictator wondered how many others shared the sentiment. Perhaps they didn't know how messy war really was.

"I've got people I'd like to come home to, personally." said the demi-Titan.

"A girl?"

"Nah. Family, friends. People." Percy answered, "Let's see you clean this rifle."

Percy passed a random rifle from the training rack -these were never loaded, and the safeties were always on.

Sergeant Jenkins nodded, "Yes, sir!"

Percy watched as the man expertly field-stripped and cleaned the rifle seven ways to Sunday -after all, sergeants led by example, not by shouting and bluster.

"Good." Percy praised, moving on to do some memory jogging of his own. You could forget a lot in a month's time.

That's when the Major came for him, "First Lieutenant Jackson!"

Percy spun on his heel, his hand coming up in a salute, "Sir!"

"Come with me!" the Major strode off powerfully -he really was a larger-than-life figure.

The demi-Titan did exactly as he asked, following him to the deeper bowels of Fort Hunter Liggett.

Waiting for him was a lot of brass that he didn't want to make angry. Given that he hadn't done anything particularly commendable or condemnable yet . . . that meant they were here from one thing, and one thing only.

Percy's only curse was it was a few days early. Even another week, and he'd be golden.

"First Lieutenant Perseus Lavernius Jackson." a white woman with graying hair said. She looked at him carefully, measuring him up. What's worse, a single star on her lapel marked her as a Brigadier General . . . the fifth highest rank in the army.

"Yes, sir!" Percy replied, holding a razor sharp salute.

"Be at ease." These words came from another one, this one a black man with a neatly trimmed beard. He looked older as well -and a Major General, no less.

Percy's salute fell, and his form widened a little to what could be called a 'parade rest' stance.

"Lying to your superiors is an offense worthy of court-martial." the women said, "You _are_ aware of that."

"Yes, sir!"

"And you will take that to heart in the questions we ask?" asked the female Brigadier General.

"Yes, sir!"

"Then, first, what were you doing two years ago, in New York City, on August 15th?"

Percy hesitated -he couldn't lie. If they were asking, they had evidence, "Fighting, sir!"

"Elaborate. Please."

"Yes, sir!" Percy replied, "I was fighting to protect my people, sir!"

"Your 'people'." the black Major General said, "People who exhibit similar . . . martial proficiencies?"

The female General scoffed into her fist, "Proficiencies, my pretty little ass. We're talking about magic here. Stuff that's fiction."

"Language, please, General Mendes." the Major General chastised, "But yes. During this video, you and several others exhibited . . . strange effects."

He pointed to a projector, one that showed Percy leading a contingent of Romans against a small horde of monsters.

Predictably, the Mist hid nothing -it didn't work with videos; not at all.

"My people can do similar things, sir! May I speak clearly?"

"You may." the Major General replied.

"Thank you. As you can guess, I'm not a normal human. And I don't like even saying that. All the same, surely you saw my . . . opponents were far from humans themselves? My people, and my ancestors, fought them since the fall of the Roman Empire, and even before that. We haven't moved with the times, but the people we protect -regular humans- have." Percy sighed, "And in this day and age, it's been more and more likely that we would all be exposed. So we, I, wanted to make first contact with you."

"With us, being the military?"

Percy shrugged, "I've known the military all my life. I thought if I could prove my loyalty and valor . . . maybe everyone could accept my people."

This whole speech was, of course, a lie. He wasn't planning for the New Romans to be _accepted_. No, he was planning for demigods and legacies to be an enormous part of everyone's lives from now on. And he was planning to, eventually, take over the United States, then the world.

"How, exactly, did your 'people' come about?" asked the Major General.

"This is the most ludicrous part of it all yet: Gods exist. Not Christian God -at least, as far as we can tell- but the Greek and Roman pantheon." Percy said, and waited for the exclamations and demands for proof.

"What?" shouted the foul-mouthed Brigadier General, "Are you bat-shit crazy?"

"No, ma'am. I don't have a good way of proving it, but my people are the descendants of those gods, gifted with their power to kill the 'monsters' that threaten us all." Percy said truthfully, "But we're relatively few in number."

"Christ . . . this could blow up the whole nation like some shit-head dropped a grenade in a fucking can o' worms." the women breathed out.

"That being said, we don't like the gods." Percy said, "Unlike us, they don't particularly care about life. I, and my people, would rather them be gone."

The women raised an eyebrow, "You'd call them gods for a reason if you aren't a total shithead. What can they do?"

"Independently, each of them are powerful on a massive scale. The legends and myths of Greece and Rome are true." Percy explained, "Jupiter, or Zeus as he's better known, has weaponry capable of leveling a mountain or destroying a small city in a single stroke. A clean weapon more powerful than a nuke, wielded by someone who doesn't care about who he calls 'mortals.'"

The Major General shook his head, "Assuming every word you have spoken is the truth, which is doubtful, do you believe you can neutralize these 'gods' you speak of?"

Percy nodded, "They _are_ gods, but they draw their power from their thrones and domain -that is, the portions of the world they hold sovereignty over, such as the sky for Jupiter -Zeus- and the sea for Neptune -Poseidon."

"And what is your plan, again assuming you are telling the truth?"

"The gods have their thrones and consolidated power on Mount Olympus -a massive, floating boulder above the Empire State Building, held there by a fragile bridge." Percy said slowly, "We have made preparations to protect New York City itself, but if we cut the bridge, the boulder will fall. If everything works perfectly, it should slide away, into the sea, where we would hit it with several high-yield explosives, destroying it utterly."

"That would kill gods?" asked the Major General.

Percy shook his head, "That wouldn't kill them, but it would severely weaken them, to the point that they would be even less powerful than the majority of my people -New Romans."

"So, you and the 'New Romans' could hunt them down?"

"Yes." Percy answered.

"Explain to me why we shouldn't wipe you and all of those fucking gods off the face of the earth." ordered the Brigadier General.

Percy sighed internally -he knew this question was coming sooner or later, "The 'mortal' world and the 'immortal' world don't mix. As in, steel will pass through gods, and their own metal -Imperial Gold- would, quite literally, pass through you harmlessly."

"Then we'll make bullets out of this 'Imperial Gold.'" the woman pointed out.

Percy held up his hands, "Please, hear me out. I don't want any of the people depending on my to die. I'd go to any lengths to prevent that. I, we, can be useful to America. I've prepared for this, and we have a group of my people who could, individually, do what a piece of artillery could -but with greater accuracy, less weight, and at much closer ranges. Or more."

The Major General looked to the Brigadier General, "Localized fire support on any covert mission alone would be something very powerful."

"What, exactly, can your people do?"

"Please, call my people New Romans. We've opened up a new area of research that could potentially do anything from fix a plate to level a city block." it was true -Daedalus had made startling breakthroughs, one after another, "Now, we provide fire support that could have the same effect as guided missile with none of the cost, provided we're on site. I can give you a lot, but I need a little more time."

The Brigadier General stared at him, "How much is a little?"

"In a week, I could deliver about fifty combat-ready soldiers with the destructive capabilities I've outlined." Percy replied, "We have a city of our own, off the maps, called New Rome. I currently hold a lot of influence, and I think in a week, I'd be in a much better situation to offer you whatever I can to keep my home safe."

Both of them fixed him with a long, steady look.

"We will discuss this." said the Major General, "Remain at Sigma Platoon's barracks. Dismissed."

Percy's heels came together and he snapped a salute, "Yes, sir!"

The dictator of New Rome left, headed for Able Platoon in a different Battalion -that's where Nico was, and Zoë.

He found Nico soon enough, pulling him aside, "They found out."

Nico nodded, "I know. It went well on my end, at least."

"Me, too. Zoë should be fine . . . what about Clarisse?"

The son of Hades shook his head, "She isn't dead."

"That's something good. I have to go." Percy said, going back to Sigma Platoon. They were outside the barracks, being put through group exercises by a cheerful Sergeant Jenkins.

"Hiya, there. Back from some Major Paene?"

"Yeah. I'll take over from here." Percy ordered. Jenkins shrugged good-naturedly, taking his place in the line. They were lifting logs above their heads -something that Percy remembered from ROTC.

Hours later, Major Paene came for him again.

This time, the Generals seemed to have their minds made up.

"Given your commendable accomplishments at Reserve Officers' Training Corps in southern California, and that your explanation of events fits the story of your three cohorts, we have come to a decision." the Major General said, "Next Saturday, you will be at this camp, at Sigma Platoon barracks, with your proposal clearly laid out, along with the capabilities of these artillery people you speak of."

"Yes, sir!" saluted Percy.

"Then return to training as normal." the Major General ordered, "Dismissed."

Major Paene was waiting outside the door, "I don't know what they were doin' with you in there -my pay grade's not high enough- but I've been hearing things. This is off-record, but Sigma might see action soon. Word from on high is that the Russkies have gone too far in Ukraine."

Percy nodded slightly -acknowledging one of the rare times the Major wasn't belting out information.

At the end of the weekend, the dictator was full of objectives to complete, to prepare for world domination.

Isn't that great?

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **July 26, 2015, the Organization meeting room, California**

"We shouldn't have underestimated them." Percy said, scowling.

"Thou suspicions are unfounded." Zoë replied, "The National Guard were sent in the wake of Typhon. I would not call this anything other than an accident."

"She is correct." Octavian leaned back, "They showed the same videos and pictures to all three of you -the Mist, likely already strained by keeping Typhon under wraps, could've torn and exposed you to a mortal's sight. Pictures, videos, all posted online -and dismissed as a hoax. Then some officer saw the video and recognized you."

Reyna frowned, "Either way, this is bad. We could finishing re-hiring the bureaucracy by the end of the week, but we won't be ready for war or the reveal."

"That isn't my plan." replied the dictator, "I'll take the first crop of people Medea is training -shit, we need a name for them- and make a good impression on the generals. Hopefully, they'll let us live."

"Thou hopes the war with Russia will distract them?" Zoë asked.

"Yes, mostly." the son of Leto slumped, "I think it's our best bet."

"It could also fail miserably." Octavian pointed out, "If America starts to lose, they could point to us and make us the scapegoats."

"Then let's make sure that doesn't happen. Zoë, how many people do we have in Russia?" Percy asked.

The former Hunter looked pensive, "Russia . . . I believe thou sent eight, led by Jacob Wilson."

"Eight, then. If we start to lose, we could authorize them to take out the Russian leadership." suggested the demi-Titan. He may be the undisputed leader, but he loved someone else pointing out holes in his plan.

"There is another factor we have not discussed: other gods." Zoë said, "It is possible, if they see great feats of 'magic', they would intervene."

"True. We'll keep on guard." the dictator stood, "Is that all?"

The five occupants of the room -Nico being the last, as he rarely spoke, and Clarisse was managing the Organization while they were plotting.

"Dismissed." Percy ordered, heading for the door.

For the first time in ages, he went to the practicing room where Medea was training the next group of . . . sorcerers and sorceresses? No, that took to long to say. Mages, witches, and wizards sounded too Harry Potter, though that was what history remembered Medea as.

Regardless, Percy watched as someone gathered something -something that crackled- in her hand before punching it down the field. A bolt of lightning arced from her wrist, arcing out and slamming into a solid concrete block.

It exploded, and quite violently too, but the women flicked her wrist and a shimmering shield appeared, the debris harmlessly bouncing off.

Percy stepped into the room, immediately drawing the woman's attention.

"Sir!" the woman saluted, much in the manner Percy had a day ago.

"Good work. How much can you manipulate that shield?" asked the dictator.

The woman paused, gathering her thoughts, "Of all the barriers Medea taught us, that was the most close ranged, sir. I can extend it to about three meters away, and up to about five meters in length. There are other anti-ballistic protections I could summon as well, out to anywhere within eyesight."

"Interesting. How durable would you say they are?"

She chewed her lip thoughtfully, "The more distance away from me and the larger the barrier itself is, the weaker it will get, sir. The personal barrier I summoned could be near impervious to conventional weaponry, but if I use a dome to cover a large area, it would be a lot more fragile. Maybe it could stand up to light gunfire. Maybe not."

Percy clapped her on the shoulder, "Keep working. I'll need you and your comrades soon."

The woman saluted, "Yes, sir! We'll do our best!"

"I know you will, Specialist Wallace." Percy replied, picking up the hint from her nametag. Wyla Wallace -very Scottish, though there was not trace of the distinctive accent.

The dictator turned away, heading back for his office -he had much more work to do.

He didn't expect someone to be sitting in his chair. A girl, to be precise, with blue hair and piercing golden eyes. Her features were sharp, as if chiseled from fine, hard stone. Her cheekbones were high, and her entire bearing seemed a little . . . different.

"Perseus Jackson."

Percy's hand when to his pistol -he always carried a small arsenal of weaponry on him when he was in uniform: At least one firearm, a _gladius,_ a host of daggers and knives, and a few tactical grenades.

The girl didn't try to stop him. In fact, she just lounged in his chair, looking at him, her face unreadable.

All of this registered in the second it took from his gun to go from holstered to drawn.

And the girl didn't move an inch, nor did she look at all scared of the firearm in his hands.

"Who are you?"

"Call me . . . C.C.." the girl replied languidly.

Percy called bullshit on the pause -she knew exactly what she was doing.

He didn't bother asking how she got in -that was likely the question she was expecting next. So he went with another question.

"What are you?"

For the moment, Percy thought he saw the merest hint of surprise on her face before it returned to the unreadable languidness.

"A person here to make a deal." replied C.C. -no straight answers from this one, "You need something. Something I can provide."

Percy raised an eyebrow, "And what is that?"

"Power. After all, you need to show off for your meeting on Saturday."

The dictator didn't bother asking how she knew that, "What is that power, specifically?"

"I can grant you a far deeper knowledge of sorcery and witchcraft than even the Princess of Colchis herself knows. And I can enable you to use it."

"What is the cost? And what are your motives?"

A slight smile played with her lips, "My motives are many and complex. For the moment, I would like to see what you would do with them. My cost is simple: A soul, willing given to me. Usually, it's the one who made the deal, at the end of their life."

"And if you die sooner?"

This time, a smirk graced her sharp features, "I won't."

"Very well. I accept." Percy replied -after all, there would be a time when there were enough fanatics worshiping the ground he walked on that one of them would sacrifice him or her self for him.

"Then close your eyes." C.C. instructed.

Percy did so -after all, if she was spying on him and could sneak into his very headquarters, she would have ample opprotunities to kill him.

Her fingers touched his temples, sending him into a strange trance.

He was flying through a tunnel, mysterious lights all around him. No, he wasn't flying. Rather, the tunnel was moving around him.

And standing across from the son of Leto was C.C.

"The truth of what you call sorcery, what you call power, is much less than you think. Energy into matter, and matter into energy." the girl said softly, "Even the mortals have discovered that simple truth. Neither can be created, nor destroyed. Your power is just another manifestation of energy, and how you wield it is determined through your connection to that energy. Your parenthood, or your studies."

The girl, C.C., was standing, hair whipping behind her lithe form, "And you have much to learn, Perseus Jackson."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm trying to go for longer chapters, currently. I'm shooting for about 8,000 words per chapter, though I may try and up it to 14,000. That means each update would be slower, but better. Thoughts? Too much, too soon?**

 **I need all your advice on how you want the story to go, so please review.**


	3. 2-Giants and Hunters and Legions, Oh My!

**Chapter 2- Giants and Hunters and Legions, Oh My!**

* * *

 **July 29, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

"And you think this will work?" asked Percy, looking down at Nico.

He was lying on a table, in only his pitch-black boxers.

Medea nodded, "I am not as well versed in symbology as . . . others . . . but I believe this will work. Sir."

Percy sighed, "Are there any other discoveries we have yet to make? After all the trouble Daedalus went through, you just knew it all along."

"I will send you a list later, sir." answered the witch.

"Then begin your work." Percy ordered.

Medea hesitated, "You do not even wonder what I am doing, sir?"

Percy shook his head, "Tell me afterwards. There's every chance that I won't like it."

The witch bowed her head, "Yes, sir."

Percy sat in the corner, watching.

Medea and Daedalus, with scalpels clutched in their expert hands, began carving.

Symbols. Writing. After Daedalus 'discovered' them only a few days ago, Medea came forward to reveal that she had been using such tools for most of her life.

The two of them working together, if only for a few days, managed to discover something incredible. Percy didn't know exactly what -but the end result was supposed to be immeasurably powerful.

Nico was kept asleep and under the most powerful pain-killers Percy had access too. Even more than that, two tubes went into his person at all times: One was a flow of golden ichor. The other was watered down nectar.

Only the gods could eat ambrosia and drink nectar with impunity. So Percy was replacing Nico's blood with the blood of gods for this operation.

It was slow work, work Percy had no part in.

Daedalus and Medea were like two sides of one coin -the inventor, immersed in the technologies of the mortal world, and the witch, relying completely on magic.

It was no wonder the world of immortals and monsters was so backwards. The greatest minds of eternity were kept from achieving their potential.

And if Percy brought together the greatest minds of eternity, they could come up with technologies to solve every problem permanently.

Such problem was facing Leo. How to build a bomb big enough to destroy Tartaurus, but small enough not to destabilize the entire Underworld?

Hours later, Daedalus and Medea released their tools, stepping away from Nico's body.

"It is done, sir." Medea said.

Percy stood, "What, exactly, did you do?"

"As you know, the powers a demigod or legacy inherits are based on their parentage, sir. They draw such power through a connection -their godly parents- to the domains of their parents." Medea outlined, "This ritual is intended to bypass the godly parent entirely, instead connecting a demigod or legacy directly to the domain, sir. However, only the blood of a god would be able to handle such power, which is a second reason we requested that ichor was pumped into him at all times."

"So you will be _creating_ a god?" asked Percy thoughtfully, "We will need their power eventually . . ."

The witch hesitated, "Not quite, sir. We give him the abilities of a god, but his blood will not cope with extended usage. His abilities will be greatly increased, and he will likely become stronger and faster as well, but should he draw on too much at once . . ."

"He'll explode?" Percy guessed, "Spontaneous human combustion?"

"Not quite, sir." Medea repeated, "The magic of the domain could change him utterly, turning him into a monster."

"Great. A monster with the power of a god."

"Or . . . more, sir." suggested the witch, "Should he lose control, he may be able to draw upon the power of the entire domain at once. There are few monsters that have the potential to do that, and they are on the scale of Typhon and Ketos."

"This just gets better and better. I can see why Zoë didn't tell me." Percy growled, "Is there any _good_ news?"

"He should be able to tell if he nears his threshold, sir." Medea said, "If you have someone on hand to put an end to his life before he grows to that level . . ."

"Then all we have is a dead Nico. Just great! How could it get any better?" Percy almost shouted before tapping his earpiece, "Zoë. We need to talk. Right fucking now."

The former Hunter waited for him just outside the door.

"What. In hell. Were you _thinking_?" Percy growled, slamming a fist into the wall.

Zoë faced him calmly, "I have sentenced one of my friends to death, _sir_. He agreed before hand, knowing the risks and rewards. This is the reason I did not inform you."

"You said it was a _small_ risk! Not inevitable!" Percy accused. The only times when she called him 'sir' was when she was appealing to his cold, logical, military-minded side.

Zoë looked impassive, "It _is_. Sir."

Percy scowled, "Go. Go away."

"No, sir."

"Just get away before I tear you apart!" screamed the dictator, "Nico will die because of you!"

"No, sir."

"You're killing him!"

"No, sir."

Percy fists itched to fly. If it was one thing he couldn't stand, it was betraying a comrade.

But he prided himself on giving his mind absolute control over his body. And he could certainly see the advantages of such a trade.

"Will he be up in time for this weekend?" Percy asked, calming himself.

Zoë nodded, "He will be ready, sir."

"Good." Percy spun, stalking away. He had someone to meet with, a couple of people actually, that could only secure in the most secret part of his secret Organization.

It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone that Percy didn't trust his own Organization entirely. Not all of them were driven by pure motives.

So Percy created an organization inside his Organization. Over time, he recruited people that his Organization targeted to kill, saving their lives.

Percy relocated their families as well, usually giving them much better lives as a result. Anything to ensure their loyalty.

He could now count on them to take care of a strange little boy, and a strange not-so-little girl.

C.C. didn't turn around as Percy entered, but the boy turned his head.

Percy had to admit, he was in terrible shape. Wires and tubes arced out from the boy's body in all places, trying desperately to keep alive a demi-Titan that really shouldn't be.

His name was Aethling. He shouldn't exist. By all rights, he _should not be here._

But it only proved that Kronos was much more active in the world that Percy had originally thought -he had been laying the groundwork for his attack on Olympus before he found Luke -or did he?

This boy, if Percy had to guess, was supposed to be Kronos' secret weapon. He was eight years old, born of May Castellan and Kronos' horrible power.

A child with the power of an Oracle and the Titan of Time. The Titan Kind could see the advantages of having a child that could see the future much more accurately than the sons of Apollo.

But the child came out . . . damaged. Titans and mortals were never meant to procreate. Their biological differences were too severe -in that sense, Percy was unique.

May Castellan died in childbirth, and her son was born broken. He wasn't projected to survive, but Kronos spent much of his power ensuring that he did, and more than that, imbuing the child with his power. He was named Aethling by the Titan, and was left to grow.

Then Percy stole the boy, bringing him back here. After Kronos was killed, little Aethling started deteriorating rapidly.

Until he was at this point -on the edge of death.

Percy stood next to the seated C.C., "Can you tell what he is?"

"A fusion of a mortal's womb with Titan power." C.C. answered shortly, "A hybrid doomed to die. His blood cannot handle the power of the Lord of Time."

"I know. I didn't think he'd live long enough to be useful, either." Percy replied, "But now . . . I might have a chance."

C.C. studied him, "And he is that important?"

"He could have visions more accurate than oracle. He could mean the difference between success and failure."

"Do you know what that will do to him?"

Percy cocked his head, "He will never be loved. Or have a normal childhood."

"No matter what blood he has, the level of power he will have access to will kill him. Once he begins using them, he will have six years of life. Perhaps five."

Percy's eyes widened, and his mind whirled. Nico would die in a similar time, then. Or not -maybe, if he could control himself . . . no, Percy couldn't afford to think about that now.

Nico was perfectly willing to die for him.

"Per . . . Percy?" the boy asked, his voice frail.

The demi-Titan turned, only just in time to see green mist start to rise from his body.

The boy's eyes opened wide, turning green as well, and his mouth opened.

 _You, Warlock, shall walk the path of lies,_

 _From which you hope to take your prize,_

 _But those who seek to only stride,_

 _Shall lose most dearly to their pride,_

 _And even as the end draws near,_

 _The growing darkness you shall fear,_

 _For those who live in the brightest light,_

 _Can not see the darkest night._

With that, the green mist drifted away, and Percy stared for only a second before a pencil and paper were in his hands.

" _The growing darkness you shall fear_ _._ " C.C. corrected, looking over his shoulder, "Not a kind prophecy."

"Mine never are." Percy slipped the pencil away, "Any guesses?"

C.C. nodded, "Warlock. From Old English, _waerloga_. Oathbreaker, scoundrel, monster. Traitor."

Percy raised an eyebrow, "Certainly fitting, then. Who do you think 'she' is?"

C.C. met his eyes, "This prophecy is yours to bear. Not my own."

The demi-Titan sighed, "I suppose you're right. Most of it seems pretty self-explanatory, though. I'm certainly lying a lot, and there's definitely a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. I'll have to not let myself get overconfident. Someone close to me will die -hopefully Clarisse- and I'll take revenge. Then . . . I'll have to figure it out."

"Yes . . . yes, you will." C.C. answered, her voice oddly distant. She was thinking, and thinking about something dark.

This was a good an opportunity to sneak away as any.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 1st, 2015, Fort Hunter Ligget, California**

"General Jenkins, sir!" Percy saluted to the female Brigadier General. On either side, Zoë and Clarisse did that same.

Despite their hopes, Nico was still recovering. He couldn't attend.

"I'll be damned." General Jenkins replied, "I didn't think you'd show up."

"We're here, sir!"

"I can see that." the Brigadier General turned on a heel, "Follow me, boys."

Percy gestured, and the people behind him -men and women under Medea's tutelage- formed into two files and marched after him.

General Jenkins led them through the camp to a firing range on the far side. Instead of regular targets, however, there was a good number of concrete blocks, wrecked cars, and brick walls.

The black, male, Major General was waiting for them, "Perseus Jackson. These are the people you promised?"

"Yes, sir!"

The General turned, facing all of them, "From this moment on, you will be tested! Your success could save the lives of hundreds of soldiers! Your failure could sentence them all to death! Should you succeed, you will be given the option to enter the Armed Forces at a rank to be determined!"

Behind Percy, the two ranks of people, saluted, "Yes, sir!"

"Now, show me what they're capable of." the Major General ordered Percy.

"Yes, sir!" Percy moved off, "Kelly. Clarke. You're up first."

Two woman -the first to be taught- stepped forward, facing the firing range.

Bonnie Kelly raised her arms, and electricity crackled around them before she unleashed it on a car some three hundred meters distant.

A arcing bolt of lighting shot from her wrists, blowing the car away as it tore itself apart from the shear amount of energy being pumped through it.

Cristina Clarke chose to go a different route. She held out her hand, and a glimmering shield appeared above one of the concrete blocks. Concentrating fiercely, Clarke made a fist and jerked down. The shield mirrored her actions, crushing the block into dust.

"Bates, Reese, you're next." Percy ordered, and they stepped up to the plate.

Everyone had a turn, save for Zoë and Clarisse. Percy went last of all, bending his incredible knowledge of magic -gifted to him by C.C. No one knew exactly what he did, but the demi-Titan appeared to only point at a concrete block and a car, and they both exploded into dust.

General Jenkins had few words to say after watching such a display, and all were along the lines of, "Holy fuck."

The Major General looked more reserved, but Percy could tell he was hiding just as much surprise as his foul-mouthed junior.

Almost a minute later, he gathered his thoughts again, "That was certainly an impressive display."

"I hoped so, sir." replied the dictator of New Rome.

"You have shown us power, but what about endurance? Can they keep it up for an entire battle?" he questioned.

Percy was the one to gather his thoughts this time, "The greater the feat, the more energy it takes, sir. Leveling a street of houses would leave any of us unconscious -or worse- but more localized damage we could keep up for most of the day."

"Localized as in . . . ?"

"Enough to kill a fireteam hiding behind cover, sir. Not enough to destroy a house in a single blow, but very accurate." Percy answered.

"Hell, that's what we need. We should take them, Darnell." Jenkins said.

Major General Darnell was still reserved, "You will have our recommendation. Whether it is enough will depend on the President."

"Thank you, sir." Percy said, saluting.

"Thank me when it's over, First Lieutenant."

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 2nd, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

Neither Zoë nor Clarisse commented on his display of magic, thankfully.

He had enough problems to worry about already, and one of them was the latest report from Alaska. Percy had been looking for Thanatos for a long time -he needed easy passage into the Underworld- but definitely didn't expect to find the god in Alaska.

What was even more worrying was that it looked like he was chained up, and an unusually large giant stood over him.

Minutes later, the giant's identity came back to him, or at least their most likely guess: Porphyrion.

Most of knowledge of the Giant War was lost -something that struck Percy as suspicious- but what they had said Porphyrion's first move during the last war was to kidnap Hera. It looked like he had a different target for abduction.

They could only be killed by a demigod and god working together, or so the legends said.

If Nico counted as a god, it would be very nice, but if not, Percy had a few minor gods in his pocket.

Either way, Percy was much more prepared for a war this time, "Queen Sess."

The _dracaena_ bowed, "Ssssir."

"Do you know anything of the Gigantes?"

Queen Sess shrugged slightly, "Only the legendsss of my people, sssir."

"I see. In the future, remember exactly where your loyalties lie. You know what happened to Prometheus."

The _dracaena_ Queen bowed, "Yesss, sssir."

"Good." Percy spun on a heel, turning away.

Ten minutes later, Percy was in a sealed room with Clarisse, Octavian, Zoë, and Reyna.

"Gigantes. Ideas, anyone? A prophecy?" Percy asked.

The _magister equitum_ looked pensive, thinking, "I can't remember any from the Books that involve the Giants. Give me an hour."

"After this, then." the dictator surveyed the rest of the table, "We think Porphyrion has Thanatos as a prisoner in Alaska. There appears to also be a Legion fort nearby."

"Location?" Clarisse asked, "Size of their force?"

"Hubbard Glacier. As for the size, it's unknown. The base is about one fourth of the Legion's camp here." Percy shrugged, "But they didn't see any movement. So whoever it was who lived there could be out . . . or they don't live there most of the time."

Reyna suddenly inhaled sharply, "Micheal Varus."

"He lost nearly thirty legionnaires in Alaska." Zoë pointed out, "Attacking would be folly."

"Or it might be exactly what we need." Reyna replied, "We're already the laughingstock of the other Legions. We march north, kill Porphyrion, and take our Eagle back."

"But can we spare the entire 12th Legion?" Percy asked, "Who would defend New Rome?"

"Take the 6th Legion from Texas. They've barely lifted a finger in eight years." Reyna answered, "This was _our_ mistake. We _have_ to fix it."

"A victory would be good for our image and morale." admitted Zoë, "It would be useful."

"And we could re-take all the Imperial Gold weapons and armor Varus lost!" Reyna added.

"Good points." Percy acknowledge, "Get to it. I'll make an announcement later . . . and take some of my men, too."

"How many?"

"All of them. Nico, too. We'll put this off until he wakes up -I'll contact Janus as well." Percy sighed, "That should be enough godly power to kill him. Gods, I wish I was coming with you."

"We will return soon." Zoë promised, "With the head of that Giant, as well."

"See that you do." ordered the dictator, turning away.

Someone was waiting for him in his room. The official head of the magical branch of the Organization, he or she sat at Percy's desk.

He only a little shorter than Percy, and her black scarf seemed to whip in a breeze Percy knew had no right to be here. His hair was dark brown, streaked with black, and her eyes the same. Loose black clothing hid his gender for the most part, and she'd never tell.

No one knew his or her gender, calling her 'he' or 'she' alternately.

He was Emory Martins, son (or daughter) of Viduus.

What was important was the package she brought. It was wood, dark and rectangular. Hinged on one side.

"Is this it?" Percy asked.

Emory inclined his head slightly, "The stylus used by Chaos to write the Ancient Laws. Under Mount Kronion."

Percy gently opened the box, exposing perhaps the strongest artifact to ever exist.

The pen, indeed, was mightier than the sword.

Even C.C. was visibly surprised when Perseus showed it to her, but offered little information.

Daedalus and Medea were no help, and nor could Zoë determine what exactly to do with it.

Percy snapped the box shut as they left Medea's wing of the underground base, "Good work. I'm sending you north."

"North?"

"We believe Porphyrion has risen. He has Thanatos chained up, and I can't say with absolute certainty that Queen Sess and Prometheus won't join him. So, kill him before that happens." Percy laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly, "This _needs_ to succeed. I won't accept any other outcome."

Her gaze darkened, "Yes, sir."

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 4th, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

Percy stood at the end of Nico's bed. They had to wake him -this mission couldn't wait any longer, and Percy needed him in the field.

There were remarkable changes to the son of Hades. There was always the stench of death and decay around him, an aura of loneliness and dread . . . but now it filled the room, oppressive, bearing down on it's occupants.

Percy didn't care. Those feelings and that smell weren't anything new to him.

Medea stood by the headboard, lighting crackling across her fingertips before she lightly brushed Nico's temples.

The son of Hades gasped sharply, coming to a sudden awakening.

He groaned in pain, and the shadows at the corner of the room began writhing, almost reaching out ro him.

"Nico. Control it." Percy warned, "I didn't teach you everything just so you could lose control now."

Hearing his words -hopefully- Nico growled, opening his eyes and sitting up.

Daedalus was immediately in front of the demigod, shining a bright penlight into his eyes.

Nico, predictably, batted it aside.

"How do you feel?" Percy asked, "Are you ready for combat?"

Nico swung his legs out of bed, but they wouldn't hold his weight and he crumpled, "Not right now, sir."

Percy gritted his teeth, "You have a day. Then you're marching to Alaska."

"Alaska?"

"We think Porphyrion rose there."

Nico blinked, his eyes re-focusing, "Not Porphyrion. Alcyoneus."

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 4th, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

"Alcyoneus?" Percy asked.

"The bane of Hades. Pluto." Nico said haltingly, pushing himself up on his hands before they, too, failed him, "Ask Reyna to get . . . Hazel."

Percy didn't bother moving -Reyna was in the room as well, but Nico couldn't see her from his position.

"Back on the bed with you, punk." Clarisse said, picking up Nico by the armpits and getting on the medical bed again.

Nico nodded his thanks, nodding off again.

A quarter of an hour later, Reyna returned with another girl in tow. African-American, with curly brown hair and striking golden eyes. Hazel, Percy presumed, and she immediately went for Nico.

"What did you do to him?" she demanded, looking back at Reyna. Then her eyes widened as she realized the other occupants of the room.

"No honorifics, please." Percy said smoothly, "A half-sister's love for her brother is more important than petty things such as that."

Hazel blinked.

"Thy brother will recover." Zoë assured the legionnaire, "He is resting now; He will be accompanying us north."

The daughter of Pluto nodded silently.

"Now, what do you know of Alcyoneus?" Percy asked the distraught demigoddess, "Nico said you know something of use."

Hazel nodded again, looking a bit torn.

Percy listened as the daughter of Pluto told him everything. Alcyoneus, Gaea, Queen Marie, Pluto, and the island where the ritual took place.

He'd have to visit sometime . . . or at least send Emory there. Of the whole organization, she was likely the most skilled in magic. Even more so than Medea or himself.

"Your willpower and service should be applauded. I hereby declare you as Hazel Levelsque, daughter of Pluto, in her first year of service." Percy intoned, and her arm lit up. Arbitrary promotions were one of the better parts of being dictator, after all.

Hazel looked stunned, and her face twisted in pain as brands burned themselves into her arm.

"Now, I believe you still have work to do." Percy dismissed the newly-made legionnaire with a wave of his hand, "Reyna, if you would escort her out?"

Reyna saluted, Roman-style, "Yes, sir."

By the time Hazel left the Organization's base, she had forgotten it's location and her memory was altered accordingly. To her knowledge, she had just filled in the dictator of New Rome with all the information she had in a government building.

Reyna, beside her, was watching the daughter of Pluto. If she had any knowledge of what happened, the new legionnaire would be pulled aside and killed quietly.

So it goes.

"When do you think we'll return?" Hazel asked.

Reyna stiffened for a second before relaxing slightly, "As soon as the mission's done and Alcyoneus is gone. Two or three weeks is my guess."

Hazel nodded and fell silent again.

Probably better that way.

Inside the HQ, Percy looked at his watch and cursed, "I'm going to be late. Don't contact me for-"

"We know." Zoë laid a hand on his shoulder, gently shoving him forward, "Go."

Percy nodded, breaking out into a sprint as he reached the engine room.

Inside, faces looked up at him.

The dictator of New Rome entered the location he wished, then disappeared seconds later.

He stepped out of a building right next to a favorite restaurant of New Rome, turning to raise his hand in greeting to the other Praetor of the 12th Legion.

"Jason! It's good to see you again." Percy said, his lightness of tone a stark difference from even minutes ago.

The blond son of Jupiter blinked, "I didn't think you'd be here, sir."

"Come now, just because I'm a dictator means I can't have lunch with a friend?" the son of Leto patted Jason on the shoulder, "And no 'sirs', please."

"Yes, si-" Jason started to say before Percy's grip tightened on his shoulder, "-oww."

"Let's eat, shall we?" asked the dictator, guiding Jason inside the restaurant and taking a seat.

It was no surprise that the table he chose was the next to get a waiter.

"Cheeseburger for me, please. With fries." Percy ordered cheerfully.

Jason nodded, "Same."

The waiter, a teenage boy a year or two older than Jason, mumbled something and raced off.

"So, Jason, have you ever been to Alaska?"

Jason shook his head, "It's too dangerous for demigods. Micheal Varus' expedition proved that much."

"Micheal Varus . . . have you ever wonder why he mounted that journey?"

Jason shook his head again.

"It wasn't a journey for glory or honor. The scouts I sent to Alaska found this." Percy reached into his pocket, pulling out a small notebook, "The journal of Micheal Varus. It tells of how he had to try twice as hard as anyone else to gain recognition of any kind. Being the son of a two-faced god, everyone expected him to betray them."

Of course, it was no such thing. The journal never touched the hands of Micheal Varus, and the handwriting inside was all faked.

"Why would he do that, though?"

"He had a dream. Jupiter and Juno spoke to him, ordering him to lead the Fifth Cohort to Alaska." Percy sighed bitterly, "The gods sent him to his death."

"Why?"

"They must've finally noticed him, and his parentage as well. They didn't trust him because of who his father was." the dictator shook his head, "A son of Veritas like myself wouldn't provoke that kind of reaction, hopefully."

Jason's eyes widened -his father would condemn someone to death because they were a son of Janus?

Percy must've noticed, because he smiled slightly, "Oh, they've done things like that before. The gods don't care about us mortals. Even so-called 'heroes' like you or I."

Jason's hand clenched around his burger, practically crushing it, "That isn't Roman. Varus should've had a trial . . . he had to be proven guilty."

"When have the gods ever needed proof? Did Juno need proof to take Io? Despite raping Callisto, your father still walks free. Despite making Hercules kill his loved ones and practically enslaving him, Juno is hailed as a heroine of Rome. It doesn't sit right with me."

Jason knew the myths Percy spoke of. But the dictator wasn't done yet.

"I can't help but think on what the gods have done. They've forced their way on thousands of mortal men and women, making those mortals love them, then breaking their hearts." Percy scowled, "Over and over and over. Infidelity at it's greatest level."

As if shaken out of that deep though, Percy looked up, "Oh, sorry to cloud our meal with such dour conversation. I'll see you when you get back, yes?"

Jason nodded, still mulling over all that Percy had said.

The dictator smiled as he stepped out. He needed Jason to hate Jupiter.

He needed The son of the King of the Gods to kill his own father.

Jason was the only one who could. Little did Percy know that Jason would go missing the next day. The day the 12th Legion was scheduled to start marching north.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 6th, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

"Daedalus, you have something for me?" Percy asked, entering the lab.

The eccentric weapons developer scurried over, "Yes, yes, sir. Over here."

There, hanging from chains, was a set of Imperial Gold plate armor. More than that, it looked like it there was a layer of chain mail under the plates.

"And what is it?"

Daedalus shook his head, "No, not that yet, sir. Here."

The inventor lifted a small box filled with little triangles of steel. Little triangles with words engraved on them.

"What are they?" Percy asked.

"Scent-changers, sir. Every demigod and legacy and monster and god and Titan have a scent, and this makes you smell like something else. Sir." Daedalus rushed.

"Would they hide my scent as well?"

"Yes, yes, of course, sir."

"How many do you have?" Percy questioned.

"They're easy to make, but I wanted to have a lot of them before presenting them. I have about a thousand, sir." answered the inventor.

"Good. Send them north. Get them to Anchorage before the Legion arrives." Percy ordered. Gods dammit, why couldn't he be marching north with his legion?

Because it's your duty. He reminded himself, walking away.

But this was also an opportunity. Now that Zoë was gone, he could finally interrogate his . . . special captive.

"And here I thought you learned your lesson the first time you were captured in recent years." Percy gloated, standing in front of a chained-up Artemis.

The resolute goddess refused to rise to the bait, and instead spat defiantly.

The spit never reached the demi-Titan. It crackled with energy and burst apart in midair.

"Please, don't lower yourself like that." mocked the dictator, "You have information I want. It's information I already know, but I want it confirmed. Now, you've told no one else about me, correct?"

Artemis still didn't answer.

"You know, I've heard that switching from Greek to Roman, as a goddess, is very painful if it's against your will." Percy said, "But I'm afraid I know not how. So this will have to do."

His left hand sparked with electricity as his right brandished a knife, cutting away whatever clothing Artemis had. She struggled, but the Imperial Gold chains held well.

"Sorry about your current state of dress, but this works better with no insulation." Percy apologized falsely, then laid his hand over Artemis' heart.

A scream was torn from Artemis' throat as pain coursed through her body.

The focal point of all veins, arteries, and capillaries in the human physique: The heart. From that organ, power traveled throughout the goddesses' body with impunity.

Percy frowned, pressing harder as the screams reached new levels.

Before he drew it all out at once. Every single bit of electricity and bioelectricity in Artemis' body.

That split second of numbness before the torture began again.

"That won't work." a new voice said.

Percy turned, recognizing C.C.'s speech, "Of course it won't."

Artemis slumped into unconsciousness as Percy lifted his hand.

"I'm not doing this for information." the dictator said, "I'm disguising my true objective with another."

The girl's mouth quirked, "I see. You seek to kill her."

"She will choose to fade if I inflict enough pain on her." Percy answered, "And she'll do it quicker if she thinks she'll keep information I desperately need from my grasp."

C.C. hummed, before going to a corner of the cell and sitting down.

Percy frowned, but did nothing to stop her. Instead, he turned back to the goddess and brought her to a sharp awakening. "That didn't work very well, did it? You fell asleep far too quickly."

Artemis groaned.

"I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way." At a gesture, a rack of sharp, pointy implements were brought in, "Let's start with the basics, shall we?"

Percy picked up a sharp, thin dagger and twirled it in his hands, then slammed it through the flesh of her shoulder.

"No, who am I kidding?" asked Percy, "I haven't quite figured out a major god's organs yet. You'll have to remain alive for it all, of course, but that's your loss."

Gently, Percy removed the dagger and instead picked up a scalpel.

Flames curled around it, sterilizing the tool before Percy began making careful incisions down Artemis' front.

"So far, you're not so different from Hecate. Did you ever figure out what happened to her and the other minor gods that sided with the Titans?" asked the dictator, talking mostly to himself, "I could show you later. They've been put to good use."

As soon as he finished a cut down the middle of Artemis' ribcage, Percy took what looked like a small kind of buzz saw from his trolley of tools.

It started up with a high-pitched whine, and Percy gently cut apart the two sides of the goddess' ribs.

"There we go. Easy does it, now." the dictator gently -but firmly- pried apart Artemis' chest, giving little heed to the golden blood that flowed from her body freely.

Artemis herself had long since passed into unconsciousness.

Now was time for Percy to start comparing organs. He had previously torn apart both minor gods and Titans . . . but there was a remarkable difference between them.

Artemis' insides, however, matched neither a minor god's nor a Titan's. She was almost in between the two.

That was curious. Were major gods perhaps a species between the two? Or were they simply a variation on a theme?

Regardless, Percy saw all he needed to see. He carefully fused bone and stitched together muscle and flesh before forcing nectar and unicorn draught into the goddesses' body.

"Take her back to the cells." Percy ordered, taking off nearly-invisible clear gloves, along with his now-bloodstained clothes.

With a flash of fire, they turned to ash and the dictator walked away.

He had much to think about.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 14th, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

Percy would never admit it, but he missed the action. He heard the journey of the 12th Legion, going north to Alaska. Apparently, Amazons existed. That was new.

He'd have to send an envoy to them soon enough. Probably Zoë.

In the meantime, it was boring sitting at the lead of an empty building. C.C. was still teaching him, and that damned prophecy still hung over his head, but time flowed at it's own pace.

He learned, though. With the building full of researchers and witches like Medea, Percy might as well learn all he could.

His biggest question, however, was left unanswered. That was, "Why me?"

Why was he, Perseus Jackson, successfully born from a Titan and a demigod? Percy had a suspicion, but it couldn't be proven without dissecting himself.

There was a set way already to determine how powerful a demigod -or demi-Titan- was: Blood purity.

If a mortal and a god had offspring, the child was a demigod: 50% god and 50% mortal. If that demigod mated with a god, their child would be 75% god and 25% mortal.

With that in mind, Percy had tracked his lineage as far back as he could, doing the math.

50% of his blood was Titan, from his mother. From his father came 48% godly blood and 2% mortal blood.

Now, presently, Percy was standing over his father's corpse. It had been preserved relatively well, and Percy looked down at it with contempt.

He didn't care who's corpse he was cutting into. He wanted answers.

And he got them. His father's innards almost matched those of a minor god. Almost.

So while children of Titans and mortals couldn't survive, perhaps Titans and nearly-minor gods could procreate?

With that thought in mind, he contracted Daedalus and Medea to find out exactly what was going on. They came back with good -and bad- news.

Percy would likely die before he hit fifty. But he'd live until then, and it was just as likely that any children he had with any creature would live a human lifespan.

Look to the future. Like he always had.

He was interrupted when his earpiece crackled.

 _I've captured the rest of the Hunt. No one escaped._ Clarisse said.

Percy sat up, _Where were they?_

 _In New Rome._ replied the daughter of Ares, _Probably hoping to rescue the rest of them._

 _Bring them back here at once. Short-handed as we are, we need to get them in chains as fast as possible._ Percy ordered, _Casualties?_

 _Two wounded, one critical. One death._ Clarisse reported.

Percy sighed -they were losses he could ill afford, with most of his men in the north. He was operating with a skeleton crew right now -chances are, he'd have to take a few missions in person before Zoë and the others got back.

Half an hour later, Clarisse came knocking. The captured four Hunters were led down through the base, and Percy kept an eagle eye on them through the cameras at all times.

That was when he noticed Pheobe smiling slightly.

And something started hissing.

Percy knew exactly what it was -gas. He installed it all through the base, either sleeping gas or poison. This was probably the former.

The son of Leto ran for the gas masks he also kept, but he knew he wouldn't make it. Hell, he designed this place to be foolproof -if he was at the controls.

Sadly, he wasn't.

Percy's world rock as he crumpled to the ground, sleep taking him into it's warm embrace.

 _Perseus Jackson_. A voice, in the darkness of his dreams.

Percy turned, looking around as a landscape formed. This wasn't reality, but it certainly looked so. There was New Rome, and Camp Jupiter.

He was standing on a hill, and the Caldecott Tunnel was under him. In front of him, a woman formed.

She was wearing a black shawl, and was very pale. Her eyes were brown-black, and they looked . . . odd.

The Giants. That could only mean this was . . . "Gaea."

The women inclined her head, "Perseus Jackson."

"Congratulations, you know who I am." the dictator said dryly, "Why are you here?"

For a second, she seemed taken aback. But Gaea gathered her thoughts quickly, "I sleep. Soon, I will awaken. And when that happens . . ."

Behind her, New Rome erupted in flames.

Percy's eyes widened. It brought back memories . . . running through the streets . . . the screams of the burnt and burning . . . collapsing buildings . . . the stench of scorched flesh.

Angrily, Percy shoved the thought out of his mind. He couldn't afford to be distracted now.

So he watched as Rome burned down, and smiled, "You put so little faith in Romans. We are adept at recovering."

Now he took control of the dream, focusing his will. As he watched, flocks of people returned to the ruins, building them anew. High towers replaced broken houses, and New Rome itself expanded over the Little Tiber, connecting with San Francisco.

"Lucid dreaming. An inexact art, but aided by Morpheus' magic . . . I haven't had a strange dream in a long time." Percy looked at Gaea, "Mark my words. Even now, your son is being killed by my men. You will not wake. I will end the age of gods and Titans. I will usher in a new world of humans. There is no place for you there."

The goddess of the Earth frowned, "You would have made an excellent pawn."

"I think you've overstayed your welcome." Percy growled, and the goddess abruptly disappeared, forced out of his mind.

Instead, Percy walked into this dream of New Rome, walking through it's streets. This was what his subconscious wished New Rome to be like, and it would be good to make note.

When he got to the Organization's base, it was gone. That was good.

He wasn't terrorizing the city anymore.

Percy instead went to his mansion outside of New Rome, where he spent his years in house arrest. It was redesigned, but more importantly, there was real life in it now. Percy saw himself, running through the back yard with Gwen, fully healed. There was another girl there too, with gray eyes and gray, smooth hair like . . . Leto? It couldn't be. It wasn't-

"Get up, you son of a bitch!" Clarisse howled as Percy woke up -aided by a swift kick in the guts.

The dictator coughed and retched, getting his brain into gear quickly, "What happened?"

"We got fucked by those Hunters!" growled the daughter of Ares.

"Tell me exactly what happened." ordered Percy, getting to his feet shakily. Horrible stuff, that gas.

"You fucked up. That's what happened." Clarisse said, her tone unchanged.

Percy didn't bother being gentle -his state of mind currently didn't allow for that. With one hand, he latched onto the back of Clarisse's neck and pulled forward, while the open palm of his other hand slammed into her nose, knocking the insubordinate warrior back as few steps.

"Tell me. What _the fuck_ happened!?" Percy growled back, "Or I'll beat you into next Friday!"

Clarisse backed up, glaring at him.

Percy, meanwhile, stepped forward. Electricity crackled around one fist, and fire engulfed another, "I'm real _fucking_ tired of you, Clarisse. Either you respect what I say, or I'll kill you. Right here, right now."

He was in no mood to argue, and it showed in his voice.

Clarisse was a military women. She knew when she couldn't win a fight, "Fine. The Hunters released sleeping gas in every part of the base except the string of rooms they used to escape. Hell, we didn't have the people to stop them."

"I see. Where did they go?" Percy asked.

"East, from what our trackers said. They're still transmitting, but it's getting faint now. We don't have any fancy satellites."

That was a major pain in the arse. Despite their breakthroughs in technology, they didn't have the resources to properly use most of them.

"Get on the horn with Zoë. Tell her what happened and keep her on the mission." ordered the son of Leto, "The engines?"

"Still there. That's something, at least."

Percy rubbed his forehead. Artemis probably contacted Olympus already. Or had she? Would she seek to challenge him alone? Or was she still unconscious? In which case, had her Hunters contacted Olympus?

No, from what he had heard, the gods hadn't responded to contact for the last eight days and counting. Something was wrong on the floating mountain, and that was good.

Dammit.

"Get me a meeting with Octavian."

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 25th, 2015, The Forum, New Rome, California**

"And now, our victorious forces return!" Percy announced, pointing out the marching 12th Legion. Reyna, Zoë, the centurions, and the standard-bearers all marched into New Rome instead.

Percy had to threatened absolute Tartaurus for Terminus to relent even the slightest bit on his overzealous border-guarding.

"Now, finally, we have regained our eagle! The eagle of the 12th Legion, thought lost!" Percy announced, "Now, finally, we have avenged Micheal Varus! The Praetor of the 12th Legion, fallen in battle! We have won a great victory, Romans! One giant, the bane of Pluto, lies dead in Alaska!"

The crowd cheered, hands in the air. Everyone liked a dictator who won.

"We have shown our mettle! Our courage is unmatched! For we have entered the Land Beyond the Gods and defeated a threat to our Republic there! But can we stop there? Can we rest on our laurels?" Percy asked the crowd, "No! We must push forward! For even now, Gaea stirs! She threatens our city, our lives! We must stop her! More than that, we must stop her from ever rising again!"

The crowd cheered as the eagle entered the forum, being marched all the way up to the _rostrum_ where Percy gave his speech.

Jacob the _aquilifer_ stood at the base of the platform, flanked by the centurions with the eagle raised high. Meanwhile, Reyna and Zoë joined Percy and Octavian on the platform.

"However, I have sad news as well." Percy said, his voice dropping, "Our valiant praetor, Jason Grace, has disappeared! We believe he has been captured by Gaea's forces. So, Romans, it's now or never! We must all do what we can to rescue him and thwart Gaea once again. Romans, will you fight? Will we stand together? Will we rebuff Gaea like the proud people we are?"

The crowd roared a response, all of them affirming his speech.

"Then, Romans, I need you to fight! I need you to give it everything you have! For there is no turning back!" Percy announced, "For now, and forever, Rome has been guarded by the mightiest of it's Legions: The Twelfth Legion FULMINATA!"

Lighting arced down from the heavens, connecting with the eagle. It seemed to come alive, with electricity sparking over it's wings and it's eyes glowing blue.

The crowd cheered all the louder.

XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX-XXX

 **August 25th, 2015, Organization Headquarters, New Rome, California**

"Thanatos. Letus. Mors. I have a few questions for you." Percy said, facing the God of Death.

Thanatos was chained up, of course, and Nico was there to counteract any death-related tricks he might have up his . . . well, his tunic didn't exactly have sleeves, so . . .

The god's voice was surprisingly mellow, "I cannot bring back those who died, Perseus Jackson."

Percy sighed, "You know, I really wish people stopped calling my full name. It isn't dramatic or suspenseful if you can just read it off my nametag."

Thanatos chuckled slightly, his voice deep and rich, "I have no need for suspense. I am Death."

"Yeah, yeah, I suppose I don't need to either. Anyways, the Prophecy of Seven tells of the Doors of Death. Where are they?" Percy asked.

"The Doors of Me. I thought you would ask." Thanatos replied, "In this mortal world, they are in Epirus, Greece, in the lowest level of the House of Hades."

"My father's greatest temples. Only those near death could reach the bottom floor." Nico said.

"That shouldn't be a problem. The other side?"

"In Tartaurus." the god said.

Percy smiled, "Even better. Where in Tartaurus?"

"On his beating heart. In the center of the lowest level." supplied the god.

"Heart, you said?"

"Heart. Tartaurus, the father of the Giants, has a heart. The pit of Tartaurus is his body. His heart is the center of it all." Thanatos informed.

Percy's smile grew, "Now, that's even better. I thought I'd have to collapse the whole of the Underworld. One, last question: Where is Tartaurus located relative to this mortal world? Rather, it's under the Pacific Ocean, correct? The center is in the Mid-Pacific Mountains."

Thanatos looked momentarily shocked, "Yes."

"Stellar. Sadly, we just rescued you, but now I'm keeping you in prison. Sorry about that." said Percy as he left the room.

Zoë was waiting for him just outside, "Thy interrogation was successful?"

"Sure was. After we re-capture Artemis, we'll need to travel to Greece." the dictator smiled, "We'll invade Tartaurus, plant Leo's bomb, and put an end to this once and for all. It'll be perfect."

* * *

 **A/N: That's chapter 2. What do you think will happen if Tartaurus' heart is reduced to scattered atoms? Will the monsters still reform? Will they die in the mortal world if stabbed? Will the Earth's crust implode? Also, yes, I was majorly inspired by Code Geass, which is why I have C.C. She's a rather important figure from Greek Mythology, incognito of course. Care to guess who?**

 **Please review, follow, and favorite -I really like your feedback.**


	4. Help!

**A/N: I'd like to beg a favor of all of my readers: Can you answer me a question?**

 **Are you aware that the scientific consensus regarding GMO foods is that GMO foods are no less healthy than 'organic' foods, and have in no way been connected to any illness that afflicts humans?**

 **School project, and I'd like your help to just say 'yes' or 'no'.**


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